


The Paradox of Elements

by sarena



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ancient magic, Co-workers, Community: hp_drizzle, Crete, Elemental Magic, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Porn With Plot, ancient cultures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-06-26 11:43:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15662556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarena/pseuds/sarena
Summary: On weather and ancient magic, and how Harry Potter’s matchmaking saved his department from destruction by tornadoes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dear recipient, I took your prompt and my muse decided to go wild... I hope you like it!
> 
> Many thanks to the mods of this fest! It was a lot of fun to participate :).
> 
> Eternal thanks to my fantastic alpha and beta HeartOfAspen who not only corrected my mistakes, but also improved my story stylistically. Without her never-ending encouragement and relentless work, I wouldn't have made the deadline in September.
> 
> Prompt O67:  
> Prompt: It's hailing. Inside.  
> Suggested Character(s)/Pairings: any  
> Any optional extras: Some days it doesn't pay to work at Hogwarts/The Ministry/The Leaky Cauldron.
> 
> Disclaimer: All rights belong to JK Rowling and her publishers. I just borrow the characters and the world for a bit; the plot (as little as there is) is mine, though. This is a non-profit work, and no copyright infringement is intended.

 

oooOooo

It started with a small snowflake. A white, little something which, given their extraordinary line of work, usually didn't upset people that much.

It was only a _snowflake_ , after all.

The growth in the size of those snowflakes wasn't much reason to worry, either. They were pretty with their glittering, dainty structures, and the receptionist for the Department of Mysteries always looked so adorable with them in her dark hair.

"Oh, it's just a bit of snow," she would say with a careless wave of her hand. Then she would reach for her big cup of scalding tea, while the other one tugged her scarf away from her neck.

oooOooo

"But you simply cannot assume you can compare Edian's Law with Grumpol's Theory of Magical Similarities! They're based on completely different theorems of paradoxes!" Granger threw her quill onto her desk, still carefully enough not to smear all the ink on the parchment in front of her.

"Of course, I can. See, Granger, that's the problem with you. You can ruminate on all that you've ever read, to no end. But you can't think outside the box just a little bit!"

"I beg your pardon? It was _me_ who connected Beedle The Bard and the Deathly Hallows!"

"Yeah, lucky guess."

She shot up from her seat and propped her hands on her side of the big desk they were forced to share. The air started to flicker around her, just like Draco had observed it doing again and again, in the past few months. When his coldness and her heat met in the literal middle of their desk, the air made interesting meteorological movements, which would probably amaze any inclined scientist. But Draco was only watching the way she inflated and got ready to launch a fiery reply. In every sense of the word. His body instinctively decreased the temperature around him in pure self-preservation.

"It was no _lucky_ guess," she hissed, and he swore little drops of spittle fell on his side of the desk only to turn into small specks of ice immediately.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm ineffably grateful you read that book and were able to lead the Dunce Duo to the right conclusions with that big, bushy head of yours." His eyes lingered on the little curls which always escaped her neat bun when she got upset. It made her look softer, along with the attractive pink on her high cheeks—he dragged his mind carefully out of that line of thought.

"Malfoy, I'll flay the blond right off your head if you don't stop taunting me this very instant!"

Little ringlets of smoke had developed on the part of the desk where her hands touched. _She'll repair that later, no doubt_ , he thought. Regardless, he still kept an eye on the magically fire-proofed parchment.

"In no way I am taunting you, Granger. I don't know why you always feel personally attacked when I prove you wrong." He leaned back in his chair, feigning an air of nonchalance even as he felt the humidity around him freeze.

"You know very well that you are!" Her chair began to smolder from her fierce demeanour.

With a quick jerk of his hand, Draco sent a cooling wave toward it, counter-working her heat. At the same time, he winced a little when he saw thick snowflakes falling down around him.

"Losing control of your inherent magic again, Malfoy?" she sneered. It was probably his last favourite look on her.

Rolling his eyes to the ceiling, he only retorted, "Just saving your chair from incineration, that's all."

Granger glanced down at the dark shadows of scorching wood beneath her fingers, and then over her shoulder, before she fixed him with a sharp glare again. "My magic wouldn't act so weird if it weren’t for you," she grumbled, and thawed the ice from her chair before taking a deep breath and sitting down again. "I'm serious, that comparison makes no sense at all."

He rubbed his cold hand over his face, grimacing at the sensation. "The connection is not based on the similarities, but on the opposition of the magical cores casting the spells for full effect."

"But that would counter-effect the goal of the spell. Making it _less_ efficient instead of enhancing its potency by logs."

He pushed a small book across the desk. "Courtesy of the Malfoy library. You're welcome. I don't think there are many prints of it available, and all of them are in private possession. Simmler here describes the connection of magical cores as a tightly-wound rope-structure, enhancing their durability, efficiency, and power."

Granger’s reverent fingertips stroked the imprint on the old leather. Looking up at him, she asked, "How is it possible to achieve that? I wouldn't let anyone so contrary to me close to my magical core. And I don't think my inherent magic would, either."

He shrugged, playing with the edge of the scroll in front of him. "Simmler's research is mostly theoretical. He did, however, claim one case where a married couple who hated one another to the bone, managed to protect their children through core-ropes, for a lack of a better word."

She squinted at him. "In Muggle literature—" She held her hand up at his scoff, and continued when he swallowed his words down, "—there are many cases described where parents grow above themselves to save their children. It might just be a similar effect." Granger started to leaf through the booklet, trying to decipher the faded script.

Draco almost jumped off his chair when their office door slammed open to admit a frazzled Potter. "You two!"

"We didn't—" Granger rose to defence, and Draco noted with a low hum of satisfaction that she included him, too, this time.

"Half of the department is smoldering, and the other half is wet with thawing snow!" There were red spots on his face, making him even uglier than usual. "This is the last time, I swear. You'll get separate offices. At the opposite ends of the floor!"

Granger's eyes were wide as she looked up at the Boy-Who-Lost-All-Dignity.

"Effective as of now," he added with a vicious snarl and stomped through the door, back to his own office. Draco could hear the forceful shut of that door echo in his ears. He barely repressed a flinch.

Granger looked at him, an undecipherable expression displayed on her face first, followed swiftly by triumph. "At last, he's come to his senses."

Her words stung.

oooOooo

But when the first pellets of hail started to come down, the employees at the Ministry of Magic began to worry just a little bit. Even more as they discovered their increasing size over time.

And Harry Potter cursed the day he'd separated his best friend and his dearest nemesis, as he'd already had to defend his budget raise, twice, to be able to send most of his staff to meteorological training. It was the only way to keep the ever-changing effects of inherent magic in check.

Not to mention the deserted middle part of his department, where random tornadoes made their appearance.

oooOooo

"Granger." He set his glass and plate in front of the free chair across from her.

"Malfoy. Please _do_ take a seat, despite not being invited."

He ignored her barb and her surprisingly rosy cheeks, planning to get his food down as soon as possible so he wouldn’t have to eat it all frozen again. "Any progress on Erbletz's set of journals?" The little ice crystals displayed on the outside of his glass of water slowly melted away, forming drops of condensation in their place.

"Afraid not." She sighed. "The wards are very complex. I assume it's a mixture of blood wards drenched with old magic, and they're a bit dark, too."

Draco pulled a face and unfolded his napkin to place it on his lap. "Sounds as bad as the Russian bracelet I'm working on. It’s no horcrux," he spat the word with all the disdain he could manage. "But there's something dark about it. It’s attributed to Rasputin who was rumoured to have planned to give it to Tsarina Alexandra."

"Ugh. Sounds awful."

"It is beautiful, really. A detailed piece of silver, rubies, and diamonds. But the infused magic is completely rotten."

"Was that some sort of allegory on 'all shiny outside, totally rotten inside'? Because it strongly reminds me of somebody." She pushed her smoking green beans from the middle to the rim of her plate where the sauce had stopped boiling as soon as he'd sat down.

"Harhar, Granger. You're a never-disappointing fount of jokes and fun."

"No thanks to you," she bickered back, cutting her too-well-done meat with a little more force than necessary, but he could have sworn she suppressed a smile.

He picked at his potatoes. "Potter came to me yesterday."

Granger hummed, chewing on her food while she watched him.

"Apparently, as Tolwyn was leaving your office due to 'unbearably hot working conditions,' he tried to apparate through the _marginally_ unsteady weather between offices 945 and 955 and splinched himself."

She snorted. "It took me thirty minutes to heal Kerry's frost blisters when she came around yesterday afternoon. She was shivering the whole time."

Draco shrugged his shoulders. It was not his fault that his office partner sucked at warming charms.

"I can't help it," Granger whispered. "I wish I could."

He swallowed around a too-big piece of lukewarm meat, but kept eating without answering.

oooOooo

 

With uncounted months passing, the layer of hail on Malfoy's side of the department—as they called it now—reached ankle-deep in periodic intervals, whereas on Granger's side, 40 degrees Celsius was considered an average working temperature. Some people tried to get as much work as possible done during the lunch hour, and sometimes were lucky enough to also get half an hour of reprieve around tea time.

Fed up with the whole situation, Harry Potter finally began to sort through the classified documents only the heads of the department would ever be allowed to see. He read the innocent list of eligible locations first, before paying attention to the corresponding, brittle master scroll.

Still jittery the next day, he wrote out a mission for two of his employees first thing in the morning.

oooOooo

Draco strode with wide, confident steps along the road leading to the northern part of the excavation, his glance moving between the old map in his hand and the landscape surrounding them.

Granger, whose shorter legs were no match for his long ones, gasped as she tried to keep up. "I still don't like the fact that Harry sent us all the way to Knossos to investigate about the Labyrinth of Crete."

"You've told me only approximately thirty-six times so far; please repeat it once more, so I'll finally remember your resentment against being sent on a mission with me."

"I have nothing against… Have you even _checked_ the file? Somebody's been sent here every nine years for the past two-hundred centuries, and all came back empty-handed. There is nothing to investigate!"

"Does 'nine years' ring a bell, Granger?"

"Of course it does! And I've checked with the MLE and the Greek Agency of Magic. There weren't, and aren't, seven male and seven female virgins missing. It's a fluke." She was panting when she finally caught up to him, her view sweeping over the dusty but impressive scene before them.

Ignoring several signs and barriers, Draco climbed up the final couple of meters to the western part of the entrance hall, and heard Granger groan behind him. The excavation site was still empty this early in the morning, littered only sparsely with workers who were busy readying the paths that would lead masses of tourists through the conglomerate of buildings. Occasional foreign bird calls reminded him of the distance to Britain, while the outer walls of the half-destroyed buildings were already blazing in the rising heat of the early sun. From the corner of his eye, he saw that single tiny curls had already managed to free themselves from Granger’s sensible braid, sticking to the damp skin of her face and neck. He could feel her heat radiating off her and automatically increased his coldness to compensate.

"If they need virgins, why would we be sent?"

Putting his hand on his heart in faux-shock, Draco turned to her. "Pray tell, Granger, are you no virgin anymore?"

She looked up at him, and raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure it's flattery if you think a thirty-four year old woman is still a virgin, Malfoy."

He chuckled. "Yeah, I keep forgetting you're older than me."

"I just wished you'd show some respect to your _elders_."

His lips twisted into a wry grin. “We’re the best Potter has. And you know that as well as I do.” Changing the topic and pointing to a cross on the south-eastern part of his map, he said, "The spot should be over there. Let's have a closer look, shall we?"

Granger shrugged but climbed down the stones and marched towards the South-East House, adjusting the strap of her atrocious bag and the official excavation team badge hanging from a lanyard around her neck. Despite the ever-present chill of his lowly brimming magic, a gentle breeze cooled Draco’s skin, and he welcomed both it and the shadow provided by the roof over the ruins.

"Aha!" she exclaimed, when a few of her spells revealed a magical sign on the top of a broken wall. "This way. How thoughtful of them to guide us."

"As long as this doesn’t turn out to be some sort of magical scavenger hunt…"

"Blame Kramer and Selwyn for not updating the map."

He shrugged. "Might be necessary to pass certain spots to get to the final destination."

"They still could've mentioned it in their report. But they didn’t find anything, just like all the—"

"Yeah," he interrupted her. "You've already bemoaned the lack of results from the investigations before us. A hundred times, at least."

Granger stuck her nose into the air, all high and mighty. "I, for my part, plan to leave a _very_ detailed report, so this can be put to rest for once and for all."

Draco didn't answer, instead reaching out with tendrils of his magic to try and get a grip on the subtle underlying currents of the place. After a handful of revealing spells, they passed across the Central Court and stood in front of the Grand Staircase. Another magical arrow pointed downwards.

Granger only looked at him and jerked her chin towards the steps. Feeling slightly uneasy in light of her obvious ignorance of the latent magic around them, he followed with a barely audible sigh. As they passed along a row of red pillars, he sneered at the blatant destruction of the original structures caused by the reconstruction efforts, "If you leave anything to Muggles, they're sure to mess it up."

"Malfoy," she growled, stopping mid-step. Turning around to him, she snapped, "What it is now that Muggles can't accomplish to your oh-so-elevated satisfaction?"

He gestured around them. "Just take a look! Can’t you feel the magic underneath it all? They've twisted it and put up something which pleased their eyes, instead of re-establishing the original purposes."

"They took pictures and made drawings of it all before they reconstructed everything to their best knowledge. Of course, they can't put magic into the cement they've used! They're _Muggles_."

"Just use your magic and see. Reach out."

She huffed, but stilled for a moment, focusing her eyes on a wall to their right. Draco directed his magic to the same area, feeling her heat licking along the rough surface, and when their tendrils of magic touched, they immediately began to curl around each other.

The world _tilted_.


	2. Chapter 2

oooOooo

The corridors of the Department of Mysteries were quiet and, most importantly, free of weather disturbances. People had not had to resort to odd working hours and clothes for some time. In fact, they started to get a bit bored.

Harry Potter made sure to be updated on the Cretan weather at all times.

oooOooo

Granger was looking at him with wide eyes, but Draco wasn’t paying attention to her face. She was suddenly dressed in a colourful, flaring skirt of finely-woven cloth. A broad girdle cinched her waist narrower than he'd ever seen on a woman, but it emphasised and lifted her heavy, bare breasts. The corridor around them was lit by magical torches, which illuminated the rich paintings on the walls and the bustle of activity around them. The soft shine of the flickering flames glinted off of the intricate golden combs that pulled up her hair. He could feel the seams of a loincloth grazing the middle of his upper thighs, but before he could do anything else, her body recoiled and her magic went with it.

The world tilted back.

"What the fuck?" she choked out.

"Magic," he replied with a shiver he wasn't ashamed of. The skin around her puckered nipples had been covered with finely-brushed abstract paintings befitting either a ritual or a royal audience. No matter what the purpose had been, he directed a discrete magical stream of coldness to his groin to discourage himself.

She stared at him, a plethora of emotions flitting over her face but none staying in place long enough for him to make out what she really was feeling. Shaking her head infinitesimally, she mumbled, "Let's proceed. Further down, I think."

They didn't need another revealing spell; the pull was prominent all of a sudden.

"We should be careful," he said, more to himself than her, but he saw her determined nod.

"I've never…" Her soft voice trailed off.

"Me either," he conceded. "It's extraordinarily powerful."

They passed by a few pillars, and as they went Draco could physically see his coldness smoothing out the bubbles her invisible flames left on the paint without any conscious input from him. Noting her wince as she cast a quick glance at the damage and his prompt repair, he cursed Potter for having put them both into this situation.

"The magic is strongest here, it seems," Granger observed. "With a level this high, we should've been able to detect it as soon as we entered Knossos. But only after—" She threw a quick, insecure look at him, but he opted to stay quiet.

When they reached the bottom floor of the palace, nothing looked out of order on first glance, nor did a tentative search by magic reveal anything.

"Where do you think the entrance to the Labyrinth would be? Close to the current regent? The priests, or maybe the magicians?" He stroked his palm over the remains of a mosaic.

"If you believe the myth,” Granger replied, “the Minotaur was the son of Queen Pasiphae and a god-gifted bull, which King Minos refused to sacrifice as Poseidon had intended. As a member of the royal family, the queen would have wanted to keep her son near, I assume. And nobody has ever found the labyrinth Daedalus supposedly built at the request of King Minos, to hide the shame, but also to keep the beast locked."

"An effective myth to keep curious eyes away, on top of wards. A hungry beast, gorging himself on virgins for sustenance, and a maze nobody would be able to find their way out of again..."

"Except one Greek hero. Can you feel anything?" She stepped closer and put her hand on the mosaic, too.

The world tilted once more, this time literally.

oooOooo

Harry watched Tolwyn from the corner of his eye. The bloke was fiddling with a small journal and stirring his tea as he quietly talked to Kerry, from the opposite side of the department, while she was sipping a big glass of water filled almost entirely with ice cubes.

There were no meteorological irregularities in his department.

Harry Potter became suspicious.

oooOooo

If he would cough only once more, he'd puke his lungs out.

Bent over, Draco held his shirt in front of his mouth to prevent another pound of dust entering his airways. Granger rattled beside him in the same position and moved her wand to settle the dirt with a choked-out spell.

"Lumos," he croaked when he finally could breathe halfway normally again, but the spell sizzled mostly out, leaving only a dim spot resembling a firefly. He tried again, and also heard Granger chanting, her voice rising in what he suspected to be the first signs of panic. The dust hadn't settled as quickly as expected either.

"Calm down," he snarled, finally giving up his efforts, his own discomfort hidden under the sharp words. "Going ‘round the bend isn't going to help."

Draco heard her mumbling something to herself and taking a handful of deep and slow breaths.

"I think I have a torchlight in my bag," she admitted, finally seeming to get a grip on herself.

A cone of light appeared after a metallic click, lighting across the floor and parts of the wall they had fallen through. Granger swept the light over it, but there was no visible hint for an opening: no door, no elevation in the plaster indicating a potential frame, no crack in the smooth layer of paint. Nothing at all. Not even with the weak magical probing Draco was still able to do.

"Fuck," he added, almost like an afterthought, when his pathetic attempt at apparition was snuffed out with a slight sting all over his skin. "No apparition either."

She screwed her face up. "Bollocks. Where are we? And should I ask _when_ , as well?"

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, remembering too late that it probably was covered in dust. "Not the foggiest, Granger."

"It must be the Labyrinth," she exclaimed, the small beam of her canned light source illuminating the rest of the room, one narrow strip at a time..

"I suppose. We won't be able to just get back out through that wall," he said, pointing his thumb towards the way they had come. It was an utterly pointless gesture because she couldn't see anyway. "Care to explore?"

Nodding, she forced a smile, and they began taking slow steps deeper into the corridor.

Stopping as they reached the first junction, Draco queried, "You don't happen to have thread in that bag of yours?"

"No. But I might have knitting needles to mark the wall." Rummaging through the unknown depths of her portable vessel, she eventually produced a long, sturdy needle.

He looked at her in confusion. "Why… Why, by Circe's promiscuous love, do you carry knitting needles but no wool with you? That doesn't make any sense at all!"

"Sonny wanted to play with it." At his blank expression, she explained, "My cat. I gave it to my cat to play with."

"Do I need to understand why you kept the needles in your bag, not being able to use them?"

She shrugged. "I had been hoping to pick up wool from some of the farmers here. Sheep have a long tradition on Crete, and the locals are famous for their dyes and combinations of colours."

Draco shook his head, murmuring, "I don't have to understand this."

"I also happen have apples for the both of us. And emergency energy bars. But we should keep those for later."

He hesitated before accepting the proffered fruit, watching as she started to scratch an arrow onto the wall leading out of the first hallway.

"Malfoy, come look."

Biting pieces off his apple, he chewed hungrily as he moved closer, wishing he had not skipped breakfast in favor of a quarter-hour more of sleep. "Don't touch," he hissed, scarcely refraining from swatting her hand. "Have you already forgotten the last time you touched something here?"

Whipping her head around, she instead poked his chest with a stiff index finger. " _You_ touched that wall first! It's not my fault we landed here. At least not completely."

"Whatever. What did you want to show me?"

"There are old scratch marks here. Some are struck through." She raised an eyebrow in a challenge. "Fancy following the one arrow which is not?"

oooOooo 

The muffled tinkling of galleons changing hands was the last hint Harry needed. It took him five minutes to track Tolwyn down, and only thirty seconds more to force a confession out of him about a journal he'd found on Hermione's desk, written by an unknown fellow called Simmler.

The small (but well-disguised) betting pot had grown after that.

After all, those who worked in the Department of Mysteries weren't employed because they were dull.

oooOooo 

Letting Granger take the lead, they tracked the markings in silence until they ended up in a big room. Draco couldn't tell in the slightest how much time had passed, and without the sun as his guide or a Tempus spell announcing the time, there was no use in speculating. She had been tapping her wristwatch angrily, but to no avail. All he knew, was that his feet hurt and that he was both thirsty and exhausted.

He also didn't know if she had noticed that their inherent magic had been suppressed, too. No heat waves from her. No icy magical replies from him. Draco had started to frown some time ago.

Stepping over the detailed mosaics on the floor, he amended his previous estimation. The room was huge, more of a hall or a high-ceilinged temple room with supporting columns vanishing in the dark above them. When they finally reached the end opposite the entrance, the most impressive sight he had ever laid eyes on, waited for them.

Revealed by Granger’s torch bit by bit, the whole span of stone was covered in lifelike scenes, depicting everything from the gifting of the white bull, to the construction of the labyrinth, to Theseus killing the Minotaur. Seemingly untouched from the millennia since the palace had been erected, the paint still looked fresh. On top of that, the pictures were moving with unhindered magic. The centrepiece of the arrangement was a high statue of the Minotaur in the foreground, flashing in the light which suddenly flared up around the room from hundreds of magical torches affixed to the walls.

Granger yelped and pressed her eyes closed just a split-second earlier than him.

"Fuck." He slapped his hand over his eyes to ease the stab of the sudden light like little daggers on his retinas.

"Oh, isn't that lovely. All magic works except ours. Grand, just grand," she complained to herself, or the universe at a whole. After they'd both adjusted to the brightness, she moved closer to consider the statue and its lavish decorations of flowers, surrounding carpets and mats, and pillows. "There have to be hints somewhere. This hall has only one obvious exit, which we came in through. We should check the statue and the wall with the fresco first."

Draco took a few slow breaths, trying to moisten his mouth, which still felt sandy. His foolish relinquishment of his usual pot of tea at breakfast wasn’t helping. "Did you take any water with you?"

She searched through her bag, and pulled out a bottle, pushing it into his open hand.

"You first."

She shook her head.

"Do. Not. Discuss. This." He shoved the bottle in her direction.

She took it but focused on a point behind his shoulder.

"What's your problem? Drink! I'm thirsty."

"I can't."

"Why?" Looking a little closer, he observed her pinched lips and stiff posture.

She rolled her eyes.

"Oh." The heat on his face must have been clearly visible but he hoped the fire from the torches would camouflage his embarrassment. "Well, if you need to _relieve_ yourself, go behind the last corner. Just don't get lost, because I really don't feel like being alone in here." _And you make being stuck underground by ancient magic, in a foreign country, much more bearable_ , he added in his mind.

She huffed, her own face pink, as well, but turned sharply and marched to the exit, switching her torchlight back on the moment she reached the black opening.

He stepped closer to the moving figures on the wall. Every detail seemed to have been executed with great dedication, just shy of adding single eyelashes to the forms shown. The scenes moved fluently, each much longer than those which modern magical photographers were able to achieve. Even the siring of the Minotaur was on display, the actual deed graciously covered by the barrel in which Pasiphae was rumoured to have been in, but the artist didn't shy away from depicting the rapture on her face. The knowledge of this sophisticated artistry must have been lost throughout the millennia that had passed since then. Perhaps it had even vanished right along with the Minoan society in one of the many earthquakes the region had reportedly gone through.

Draco’s eyes followed Ariadne's red thread where it slithered through and over the paintings, connecting them all from the beginning to the end. Interestingly, the end wasn't Theseus's arrival back in Athens, but his emergence from the Labyrinth and the happy reception by Ariadne, both draped in the cord.

Behind him, Granger shuffled over. "Find anything?"

He tilted his head. "No. But the craftsmanship is amazing. I can't believe they built this over 3000 years ago and it still looks brand new."

Her eyes danced along the pictures, lingering slightly on the erotic scene with veiled interest on her face, but then quickly following the red guide to the last scene. "All the important hallmarks of the myth are depicted. It tells all details and turning points of the story. I never expected to see so much artfully channelled magic in one place." Glancing over at him, she asked, "Have you examined the statue yet?"

"No. We can do that now."

She circled around it slowly, appraising the script on the pedestal. The beast's horns were golden: the real deal, if Draco were asked to make an estimation. Though it was sitting in a relaxed posture on a throne, the rubies in its eyes reflected crimson beams of light onto its lap and the floor, and also on whatever would be standing in front of it. The human body was bare except for a loincloth and a winding red thread around one leg, but the transition from human to beast was seamless where it led into a fully furred bull's head with a golden ring through its nose. Draco was tempted to duck down to see if the goods matched the expectation, but decided it might come across just a little too juvenile.

"There's nothing. What are we supposed to do? All of this tells us nothing!"

He crossed his arms. "There must be something. And we'll find it. I haven't seen any bones laying around. I think it's very much possible to get out."

She picked up the bottle of water he had put on the floor and took a mouthful, swirling it around between her cheeks. "Okay," she said. "Let's make a list of what we know."

Pulling a pen and a journal from her bottomless bag, she watched him expectantly and sat down on the biggest of the cushioned mats in front of the Minotaur. He joined her, putting his arms over his bent knees. Rattling off a few facts he'd thought about, he observed her quick writing, clearly organised and very legible. Adding a few thoughts of her own, she straightened her hunched back, and turned to him.

"Our location is probably still on Crete, but underground. It's dry here, so we're probably on land. The air isn't stale but there aren't any visible openings. I think we're further below the palace, but it doesn't really matter as we only seem to be able to get out by magic. Magic we can't use at the moment, but which is otherwise unimpeded here. Very old magic."

"What is it about the myth of the Minotaur that could connect us to being able to get out of here?"

Granger pushed a wayward curl behind her ear. "Do you think there's any truth to the myth? I accede that there might have been a king, but the bestiality and conceiving with a god-sent bull seems to be a product of fantasy. Maybe a rumour to denigrate the ruler. The Labyrinth… We did walk through it, like others have done before. There's a statue, and there are moving pictures explaining it all in detail. What are we missing?"

"A magical aspect which should enable us to get out. But we can't use—" He stopped mid-sentence to eye her. "What exactly did you see when we touched before?"

She swallowed and didn't meet his eyes. "It was only short. Magnificent, coloured murals. Servants and priests. Bustling life. You, clad for a celebration, I suppose. You?"

He forced himself to not look at her breasts. "Pretty much the same. You were wearing clothing which seemed to be Minoan, and a lot of jewelry."

Blushing, she cast him a quick look and nodded. "I can hardly _feel_ my magic here. It's so dampened. I don't know if we could repeat it."

"Yeah. Physical contact might enhance it, though."

She looked at him with a blank expression, except for the minute deepening of the vertical lines between her brows, and held her hand out after a split-second of hesitation.

"Here goes nothing," he mumbled and reached his fingers and his magic out to her, allowing the small tendrils to coil around each other.


	3. Chapter 3

oooOooo

Tapping his quill on the blank parchment until the tip was ruined, Harry Potter uneasily watched the satellite pictures of Crete, but they showed no hint of clouds. There were no communiqués of inside-weather incidents, either.

It had been a long time since he'd heard anyone shriek at an unexpected snowball hitting them, or at a smoking seam. He also worried about the thirty galleons he'd put into the betting pool.

oooOooo

Draco wasn't sure if he could get used to his world tilting just yet.

The scenery had changed back to what he assumed was the Minoan era. The hundreds of torches were still lit, but the gaggle of people around them had changed. Instead of being surrounded by hurried officials and slaves, now a half-circle of worshippers in festive garments encompassed them kneeling with raised arms and heads in their necks, while others danced and swayed to the music in the air without stepping on the mats still—or again?— lying on the ground. The incomprehensible incantations filling the room, along with the heavy scent of myrrh and incense, were obviously devoted to the central statue.

He looked down to find Granger's hand clenching around his, and that a thick, red thread was wound twice around their wrists, hanging loosely from the ends. He felt elated and scared, warm and attached. He also felt his magic coming back, its tendrils carefully reaching out and starting to intertwine with hers. The more of a connection they shared, the more intense he felt, until he realised that it wasn't him but _her_ projecting the emotions.

He jerked his whole body back, inhaling big gulps of air after they fell back into their own time. The feeling of loneliness following the abrupt removal of all contact was jarring. "Fuck."

She jumped up, stumbling a few steps away as she stared at him in shock. "I felt you. I… It was… I was in you, and not. I _felt_ you."

"Shit."

"I've never felt… crap." She eyed him. "Did you feel me, too? What did you feel?"

He hung his head, shaking it slowly.

“Honestly, Draco Malfoy, this is _not_ the time to play coy!”

Taking a deep inhale, he said, "Do you really want to go there?"

"You need to tell me. For fuck's sake, I was _in_ you! I felt how much you—"

"Granger." He groaned and put his head in his hands with his elbows on his knees instead of looking at her. "Alright. Warmth. Fear. Excitement. Devotion."

"I'll tell you what I felt from you. There was fear, too. A bit of resignation. Coolness; your inherent magic, I think. Attraction, the physical type. And—" She chewed on her lip. "— Affection."

He got up and wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers. "Look, I don't know what exactly—"

She came closer, until she almost touched him, and looked up from beneath her lashes. He felt pinned in place, watching her as she raised her trembling hand and placed it on his chest. Despite their suppressed magic, he could feel her warmth calling out to him, and when she slipped her fingers through the opening between two buttons to rest on his bare skin, he positively choked on the sensation.

"It's not as intense as earlier."

He felt lulled into her heat, closing his eyes to prepare for the barrage of emotions. "Intense enough."

She stroked over the sparse chest hairs he had, opening her fingers a little to card them through. "The real connection must be happening when our magics touch. Like the melding of two entities. It's fearsome. But it felt amazing. I never would've thought you'd like m—"

Draco sent his magic out as fast as he could, in hopes of shutting her up but also in the interest of getting a more in-depth glimpse on her feelings. He did not quite understand why she wasn't appalled by his attraction. Or maybe she couldn't see the repeating mental images of her in that revealing Minoan dress. Perhaps there was still some hope left to salvage their professional relationship, and to go back to their safe barbs and jabs.

The transition was slower this time, more controlled and easier. They were still standing at what seemed to be their hand-fasting, Hermione's blurred rush of emotions a beacon in the insecurity of the unfamiliar scenery.

"The coolness of your magic is so refreshing," she whispered, leaning into him but still facing the priestess. "It's like mine had been parched all this time, and now it finally gets its fill. I tried to find out more after you showed me that journal, but I didn’t come across much at all. Inherent magic is extremely rare."

"And if this is what it feels to be connected to another bearer of this type of magic, it's very understandable that people don't share." He didn't dare to look at her, unsure about the proceedings of the ritual and not quite ready to see her in her Minoan dress again.

Her emotions became clearer. Agreement decorated with deep affection, slightly miffed, probably because she couldn't find anything in a book when she had looked for it. Determination also, which was likely attributed to her obvious wish to find a way out of this maze, and to deduce what was responsible for them being stuck there in the first place.

"But I would be happy with just escaping, to be quite honest," he said. Watching the priestess conduct some complicated gestures with what Draco supposed was an ancient wand, he moved a little closer, almost touching her side. He felt something solid scratch against his upper thigh, and a hidden touch confirmed that it had the shape of a wand. The realisation lifted his spirits so much that Hermione grew startled before he felt her sending the emotional equivalent of a piercing glare in his direction. The mirroring of their outward interactions made him grin without reserve.

But there was much more to it. The heat of her magic licked over the spikes of ice his magic was prone to form constantly, seen or unseen, melting them down to soft elevations. Shivering with the titillation it caused, he could only guess how having sex with her would feel beyond the soft pressure of slick warmth around his cock and the stiffening of a nipple in his mouth.

Too late he realised that this kind of emotion would also be open to her. Draco tried to concentrate on their escape and on the unpleasant feeling that being trapped caused in him, but from the corner of his eye, he could _see_ that she'd identified the beginning of his arousal well enough. Feeling her hand wrapping more tightly around his, he noticed the hall growing quieter as the flock of worshippers emptied out by apparition. The priestess turned and smeared some sweet-smelling balm on their foreheads, above their hearts, and on their lower bellies. It left a tingling sensation on his skin, not unpleasant, but somehow invigorating. Then the priestess fastened the red thread with another knot and spoke an unintelligible spell which scorched his skin and caused the thread to crumble and disappear. After shooting them a toothless grin, the woman vanished, leaving them—again—all alone in the big room.

Granger loosened their hands, rubbing her wrist as she inspected it. "No blisters? That thread was positively freezing on my skin!"

"Freezing? What are you talking about? It _burned_ off."

She looked at him in surprise, then exclaimed, "Our magic! It has something to do with our magic. We both felt the sensation of the other's abilities. And though it was a bit painful, it didn't leave any marks. What does that mean?"

Draco pursed his lips. "What do you think will happen when we disconnect?"

"I assume we'll go back to our time… and back to being trapped."

"We're trapped as it is, Granger."

She exuded a plethora of emotions and he was challenged to keep up with them. He felt mostly anger and desperation, but also her dedication to finding a solution. "The others apparated out. If we find a way to get all of our magic back, we can apparate, too."

"Do you have a wand?"

She patted along the sides of her skirt and pulled a delicately carved shaft out. "Seems so."

"We should try together," he suggested, brandishing his own. "On three, and to the hallway with the pillars?"

She agreed, watching him, the effort of focusing making the small lines on the corners of her eyes crinkle as she waited for him to finish the countdown and they both spoke the spell.

They didn't even get halfway through the word, as if wards had nipped their effort in the bud. Her shoulders sagged, and a wave of sadness and despondency sloshed through their bond. "Crap."

"Want to disconnect?"

"Yeah."

They found themselves in the same spot as before, with only the smell of the incense and the saccharine balm missing. Granger still had her fingers on his chest, somehow having managed to open a button of his shirt. He swallowed, carefully keeping his tendrils of magic away from hers. Her head was on his chest, and when a quiet sniffling sound came from her direction, he instinctively wrapped his arms around her.

"I liked feeling you," she remarked after a few steadying breaths, her tone offhanded, but Draco suspected the corresponding emotions were anything but.

Chewing on his lower lip, he let a few moments pass. "I don't think there's much to like."

She leaned a bit back to look into his eyes, a hint of terror on her features. "Why would you say that? Draco, that's not true at all."

He shrugged, already missing her body pressing against his.

She leaned back into him without prompting, pushing her hand further into his open shirt and brushing over his nipple. Barely stifling a surprised jerk, he tightened his hold around her when she started to play with the hardening bud. "Granger. Don't."

Her face flushed with humiliation when she withdrew, forcing his arms to open, and she stepped back. "I apologise. I thought—" Pausing, she rubbed her fingers against her thighs. "Your emotions. That affection I felt… I misinterpreted it, obviously."

He sighed, pressing his eyes closed as he dropped his head so that his chin rested against his collarbone. "Not _that_ , Hermione." He reached for her shoulder, his magic searching for hers. Wondering if there was a state of link which would let them exchange emotions but not traverse time, he started with a loose contact.

Her emotions were muddled but he could make out the surprise and hurt of rejection. He tried to send a bit of how he perceived her: the deep fondness he'd developed during the past ten years of working with her, in spite of their glaring differences. He was also sure to send the overwhelming feeling of attraction from earlier which he hadn't been able to hide quickly enough when their magics touched for the first time, and he saw her posture relax a little, inciting him to reach out and turn her around until she looked up at him again.

"I don't think I'll be able to hold back if you keep on touching me like that. It's been—" He glanced away and twisted his lips in a lopsided smile. "Long."

She put her hands on his chest again, a soft and careful touch which he encouraged by wrapping his arms around her once more. Pressing her face into his shirt, she mumbled, "Don't care."

Her magic swirling around his, they finally dropped back in time. The scenery was still the same, incense-filled air in a vast room, sumptuously decorated and inviting. Granger was flush against him, but now with fewer layers of clothing. Feeling her bare upper body touching him, he desperately tried to cover up how randy it made him. She shifted a little, rubbing her stomach against his growing erection without any care for time nor place.

Watching her as she started to kiss between his pectorals, he stroked his hands over her back, covered by the soft cloth of her blouse. He gripped the fabric with his fingertips, pulling it slowly out of the wide belt.

"I don't know if we should have our first time like that." His fingers trailed along her girdle until he reached the silver clasps at the front, and hesitated.

"Probably not," she agreed, her breath fanning over his skin. "We haven't even kissed yet."

"Do you want to?" The second his words were out, he knew how stupid the question was; her spike of annoyance was confirmation. Before she could start reprimanding him, he took her face in both hands and slanted his mouth on hers.

It wasn't artful, not at all. There was too much pressure and clicking teeth, and both their lips were too dry for it to be a perfect first kiss. Draco felt her tongue run over his lower lip, their noses bumping, and she broke away to giggle a little. Her stream of mirth and affection eased the blow to his ego, and when she tilted her head to the side and back, he took it as permission to try and improve it.

He swept his eyes over the freckles on her forehead and nose, watching her long, dark lashes coming to rest on the delicate skin beneath her eyes. The sweet smell of the ritual balm ensnared his senses, mingling with the subtle scent of the almond oil on her skin and hair, giving it an alluring shimmer. He noticed their magics curling around one another, intensifying the sensations he felt by the addition of Hermione's. A ripple of pleasure ran along the length of his spine.

Trailing a slow line of kisses from the middle of Hermione's forehead to the tip of her nose, he grazed the corners of her mouth and watched her eyelids flutter a little. Moving to the edge of her jaw, he sucked slightly on the skin there, licked across her pulse point and made her moan silently. With a smug grin, he registered her eagerness, nudging her nose with his to make her open her eyes again. He focused on them when his tongue darted out to give her Cupid's bow a kitten lick, enticing her to open her mouth so he could kiss her again, and this time properly. Her tongue met his with more fervour than expected, but exactly with the movements he liked. She nibbled on his lower lip, and he reached for the combs in her hair, pulling them out carefully before he buried his hands in her locks.

His eyes closed and he made a low noise, deep from his chest.

One hand stroking from her neck over her shoulder and to her breast, he kneaded the soft flesh and thumbed her nipple until it was perky. His cock was so hard by now that it lifted his loincloth obscenely, and the skin all over his body was overrun by shivers when she dragged a single short fingernail over his nipple and down to the waistband and hooked her index finger under the fabric.

"Granger," he groaned, and kissed her again. "Hermione," he corrected himself when he got a quick message of discontent, moving his unoccupied hand to her other breast and tugging on the hardened peak.

She exhaled with a rush of hot air, her skin positively burning up under his touch, until they started to intertwine their magics even more, and he realised that what he was now receiving from her, was the same kind of desire he felt. It was glorious.

"I want you so much, Draco," she whispered against his collarbone, nibbling at his skin there.

"I'm all yours. Don't you know that?"

She stared into his eyes, her irises almost swallowed by her widened pupils, leaving only a small ring of that compelling chestnut brown. It was difficult for him not to simply pull her down and bury himself inside of her, no matter how much he felt the need to give it all more time. Immersed in her eyes and emotions, he only registered that she'd freed him from his loincloth, when she slowly stroked her hand along his rigid length. Barely stifling a growl at the intolerable hassle of opening her complicated girdle, he let it and the blouse she'd managed to wriggle out of, fall onto the mat next to them. Her chest heaved with the quick breaths she took, causing his view to focus on the richly painted decorations on her skin. He closed both hands around her breasts, weighing the supple flesh in his hands and squeezing the puckered nubs between his fingers. Her responding feelings were a wave of passion, and he just knew he'd come within seconds the moment he plunged inside of her.

Stopping her caresseses with a squeeze around his dick, she loosened her skirt and pushed it down her thighs, revealing a neatly trimmed triangle of coarse hair and glistening moisture along her slit. She was as ready for him as he was for her.

Gripping his cock again, she increased the frequency of her strokes and watched clear beads of precome run down the flushed head of his length.

"Hermione," he rasped out when she swiped her thumb over it, spreading the sticky liquid and playing with the sensitive spot at the underside of his cock.

Looking up with the same mischief in her eyes which reached him through their connection, she smirked and then closed her lips around one of his nipples to first suck on one and then the other.

"You've got to stop that," he reiterated gruffly. Tugging gently on her hair, he sent her a desperate wave of need, so she'd understand just how much he enjoyed her caresses. Her magic weaving between his, she pushed on his chest to make him lay down on the cushions, and he followed her lead obediently. Little droplets of sweat had beaded on her hairline, emphasising the rosy hue of excitement on her cheekbones even more. She was utterly beautiful when she straddled him, her hot core hovering over his jutting cock like a taunt with its wet and pink perfection. Hermione wasn’t settling on him fast enough, so he tugged on her hips until she was flush with the underside of his length. She squirmed a little, the slick sensation of her heat making him groan and buck his hips upward.

"Easy, dragon." She made a sound like a purr, canting her hips back and forth, until he was hissing from the breathtakingly pleasure-fraught sensation coming from her, caused by the friction of his cock on her clit. Now he finally understood why this little, swollen spot was so central to a woman's ecstasy.

"That is a ludicrous nickname, darling," he pressed out, emphasising the endearment, and half-choking on his inhale when she slid forward and let the tip of him rest at her opening. If he'd only jerk a little, he would slip in. He bit his tongue until the pain cleared his lust-addled mind somewhat.

Hermione looked down at him, one corner of her mouth quirked up. "Don't you want to—" She circled her hips. "—You know. Fuck me?"

He stilled her with a steely grip on her hips, hardly able to sort through which part of their shared emotions came from whom. And whether the feeling of relief that their affection wasn’t completely unrequited came from him or her, or both. "Do you want me to?"

"You can feel how much I want it,” she huffed. “Literally as well as metaphysically."

"I want to hear it."

"I, Hermione Granger," she began, and he stroked both hands up to roll her nipples with a harsh pinch of his fingers, but couldn't help the spark of amusement at her cheek. With a convincing undulation of her body to slot herself in the most perfect of positions, she keened in the middle of her sentence before continuing, "Want you, Draco Malfoy, to fuck me. I want you to fill me to the brim with your cock, want it as deep inside me as possible.” She wriggled on him, spreading her wetness on the sides of his length. With a playful gaze, she bent a bit forward and whispered, “Want you to make me lose my mind over the feeling of your big cock stretching my tight, little cunt."

While he preened at her words, she propped herself upon his shoulders, and tilted her core a little to get that fraction of a better angle.

Catching his eyes, she added, "And you better do it soon." Throwing her head back, she finally slid down his cock.

Draco was positive he had died and gone to heaven.

She rested a little, her tight inner walls accommodating him. The hot feeling of her surrounding slickness made him whine louder than he would have cared to admit. Planting his hands firmly back on her hips, he nudged her up, watching her lick her lips, only to feel her drop down again, buried to the hilt.

"Do you like that?" she cooed softly, squeezing her muscles in a slow rhythm as she ground her cunt against his lap.

He wasn't able to give any intelligible reply. Nodding with a groan, he lifted her up and down, hearing the wet slap of their bodies loudly in his ears. Hermione's tits bounced with every descent, a drop of sweat running down her collarbone and between her breasts until he surged up to lick it off her skin.

She immediately wrapped her arms around his back, rendering him mostly motionless despite the intense pressure between them. The minute movements left him breathless as he felt her cunt starting to contract around him. Carding his hand through her curls, he pulled her head back from this neck so he could kiss her. Their bodies were slick with perspiration, causing his other hand on her hip to slip a little with her movements, so he re-adjusted his hold on her.

Seeing her nose scrunch and her lips part as she elicited soft shrieks while getting herself off on his cock, was probably the sexiest single thing he'd ever witnessed. His bollocks were already drawing up tightly, the familiar tensing of passion becoming more imminent with every grind of her body. He just hoped she would come faster than him, so he'd get to feel her clench on him shortly before he shot his load into her.

The mere thought of painting her slick channel white with his seed set him off. He thrust up while he slammed her down onto his cock, stilling them both and muttering a colourful curse against her neck. His magic was completely intertwined with hers now, their metaphysical essences entangled in a knotted net woven of magical strands and streaks of emotions. Hermione was nearly sobbing, a quick succession of, "Yes, yes, ohmigod, just like that, please," leaving her mouth until she tensed up with a guttural wail, and Draco was drowning in a blinding rush of ecstasy which blanked all other thoughts completely out. He came once more after only half a minute, their magics permeating each other entirely as he joined her in climax.

And then the fucking world fucking tilted again.

They found themselves in the exactly same position on the floor of the pillared hallway, fully clothed and absolutely breathless. He cherished her weight for a moment, still blissed out by the double climax and the overload of sensations allowing him to somewhat tune out the sticky feeling in this boxer shorts. Wrapping his arms around her, he pecked her closed eyelids, and then her nose, before pressing an affectionate kiss onto her lips.

"We're back," she whispered, but made no effort to free herself from his embrace.

He kissed her damp temple, tasting the trace of salt on her skin. "It seems so."

Hermione scrambled up, looking down at her rumpled, but complete attire and watching him as he got up and dusted himself off. He felt her pondering uncertainty, wondering where the experienced events would leave them; it mirrored his own.

"Draco," she said, faltering for a split-second before blurting out, "I think my magic is stuck. I can't separate it from yours anymore."

Her words disturbed the peace he'd felt for a few precious moments. It had been a mellow feeling of content, like puzzle pieces finally slotting into their proper positions, with the final result consisting of satisfaction and pride and completeness. Reaching out carefully, he noted that there weren't any icy spikes or fiery outbursts anymore. He couldn't help the sense of utter fulfillment within himself.

As she looked up at him with widened eyes, he detected her answering emotion of happiness, but also a reluctance he suspected was due to the fact that the magic seemed to have made the decision for them. He was disconcerted at the thought of her not wanting him in the first place, that this was a one-off based on superficial fondness and mere physical allure. It was crushing.

"No," she protested, resting her hand on his chest, just where she'd opened that one button earlier. Her fingertips slid onto his damp skin, holding the small but conciliating physical connection. "It's not that it doesn't feel good. I'm satisfied as never before."

Before he could become too smug over his sexual prowess, she added, "Which is probably due to the fact that our magical cores are wrapped around each other’s. It's an indescribable awareness. A claiming and feeding off of one another. But, at the same time, calming and supporting, beyond a simple magical connection. We'll need to talk that through and examine it further. That, and where it leaves us. As partners and as colleagues." And with a coy bite on her lower lip, she added lowly, "I felt you come with more than just my bodily senses. Twice. The pleasure was the most intense of all sensations possible."

He grinned. "Care to investigate that, as well?"

"I suppose our expedition to Knossos has found its end, but I'll have you know that my hotel bed is very comfortable. And we can figure out the rest without potentially prying eyes and ears," she said, stepping closer to him and letting him feel the first hints of her arousal.

He just might have agreed to anything if she kept up that pace of seduction, but then again, he couldn't have wished for a better turn out. He smiled, took her hand, and tagged along in the quickest, smoothest, highest-energy apparition he’d ever participated in.

oooOooo

Nobody took that one UFO fanatic seriously as he insisted on having seen an exceptionally long and lasting bolt of lightning hitting the middle of the excavation site during a completely cloudless night. There weren't any charred remnants to prove his observation, either.

The hail and the heat waves which Ministry employees had expected to come back to their department with Granger and Malfoy’s return, in fact, didn't, despite the occasional spontaneous and violent air-turbulences.

Harry Potter, having finally added two names to that peculiar, old parchment he’d found a few weeks ago, whistled smugly as he patted the bulge of galleons in his trouser pocket.

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> I had so much fun writing for this prompt! Please leave a comment and let me know what you think :).


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